Page 9 of Fibre and Ink

I turned my head and gasped. A person walked down the lane on the mountain side of the field. Right by the fence.

What could someone be doing out this late at night? It had to be three in the morning...

I swallowed, narrowing my eyes to peer at the figure. It wasn’t Mickey, not tall enough to be him. Some stranger, or a neighbour out for a witching hour walk?

The way the figure moved wasn’t relaxed or at ease. They looked furtive. Up to no good.

I had to do something, but I didn’t feel comfortable running out there on my own.

I padded down the hallway to Mickey’s room — his parents’ old bedroom— and knocked on the door.

“Mickey?” I pushed the door open. Tthere was no way whoever was outside could hear me, but I still spoke in a hushed tone. “Mickey, wake up.”

The lump on the bed groaned and turned over. “Huh?”

“Mickey? There’s someone outside.”

That got his attention. He sat up and reached for the light.

“No lights. We don’t want them to know we’re awake.”

Mickey slipped out of bed. It turned out he slept in his boxers. Only his boxers.

My night vision was good and I averted my eyes to the soft roundness to his belly and the generous down of hair on his broad chest.

Mickey pulled on,a hoodie, and stood. “What did you see?”

“There’s a person, a man maybe? By the fence, heading to...” What were directions? “Towards the north? Away from the house.”

Mickey nodded. I stepped aside and he padded down the stairs and outside. I followed, feeling stupid and powerless, frightened by the idea of someone lurking outside.

By the door, Mickey picked up something long and thin. It wasn’t a gun. I wasn’t sure if he had a gun, but this was something he could use as a weapon.

I lingered at the door, watching like a worried farmhouse twink.

Mickey, apparently, had no fear.

He stamped up the lane and I heard him calling out. “Hey, anyone out here? Anyone lost? This is private property.”

I didn’t hear any response. I shifted from foot to foot. Should I follow him? I couldn’t make myself leave the step.

Mickey had gone over the hill and out of sight.

My heart wouldn’t stop thundering.

Chapter Four

Mickey

Early Wednesday morning, August 5th

I shoved my feet into my workboots and strode out into the night.

It hadn’t happened around here before, but stock poachers were a thing. From the various farmer forums I was on, I knew it wasn’t something to take lying down. Just because it had never happened to me didn’t mean it never could.

If someone was snooping around I wanted them to know I was dangerous and not someone to be messed with.

The alpacas were awake. Someone or something had woken them.